


Safe Mind

by LadyDrace



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Scott McCall, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Feral Derek Hale, Full Wolf Derek Hale, Getting Together, Happy Ending, Light Angst, M/M, Mates, Minor Isaac Lahey/Scott McCall, POV Stiles, Spark Stiles Stilinski, Telepathy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-10
Updated: 2017-02-10
Packaged: 2018-09-23 07:22:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,434
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9646145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyDrace/pseuds/LadyDrace
Summary: Derek goes missing for a while and comes back full wolf. Only problem is that his mind has gone wolf too, and for some reason the only one he'll allow near him... is Stiles.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [rieraclaelin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rieraclaelin/gifts).



> This was written for [Jessie](http://rieraclaelin.tumblr.com/), who was a star and liked it even though I'm pretty sure this wasn't what her prompt was aiming for. <3 Thank you for being awesome. 
> 
> Unbetaed, but thoroughly edited.

It's pitch dark in the preserve. Even the flashlights don't help much, but Stiles isn't about to admit defeat. He can help, and he's damn well going to. He pauses every few minutes and balances the small, drop-shaped crystal vertically on his palm, holding up the light to see it. ”Show me,” he whispers, and the pointed end of the crystal swivels gently like a compass needle. It's not completely accurate, but it's better than fumbling around aimlessly, and it's helped Scott and Isaac pick up the scent again after losing it a few times.

 

Derek's been missing for two weeks. Normally this wouldn't be cause for much concern, because even though he's technically part of Scott's pack he doesn't usually hang around a lot. But Stiles happened to need him to answer some questions for the translated and updated bestiary he and Lydia are still working on, and after three days of no answer Stiles got worried. Even for Derek, a few days is usually maximum waiting time, and that was over a week ago now.

 

John looks at the crystal over Stiles' shoulder, and informs Parrish via radio that they're off by a few degrees. The response crackles in a few seconds later, and it barely cuts off before it starts up again.

 

”We've got something, over,” Parrish says, and John immediately turns left to join the other half of their search party, Stiles hot on his heels. It wasn't Stiles' choice to have law enforcement – his _dad_ – involved in this, but since revealing the whole supernatural deal to John he's been vigilant about Stiles' extracurricular activities to the point of frustration. And given the choice between letting him and Parrish join or be handcuffed to a radiator so _none_ of them could help, Stiles picked the lesser of two evils.

 

They're close enough to hear some snarling and scuffling in the underbrush when the radio pipes up again. ”Crap. You might wanna stay back, over.”

 

There's a loud yelp and a lot more growling, and Stiles recognizes the pained cry all too well. It's distressing that he can pick out who's hurt by the sound of their agony, but that's life in Beacon Hills for ya. ”Scott?!” he calls, and tries to move closer to find out how bad the injury is, but John takes vice-like hold of his arm.

 

”Stay back means _stay back_ ,” he hisses, and takes the safety off his gun.

 

”I'm okay!” Scott yells from a little further ahead, and Stiles breathes a sigh of relief. The snarling dies down, and the radio crackles again.

 

”You can come closer now, but slowly and quietly. We found Derek. But he's... not himself. Over.”

 

It sound ominous as hell, and Stiles stays behind his dad and the gun as they come closer. They emerge from the heavy brush into a tiny clearing, where Scott is cradling his bleeding arm, Isaac hovering nervously near him, and Parrish has his gun out and ready, but aimed at the forest floor.

 

”Where-” Stiles starts, but then the snarling starts again, and John yanks him back another step. Blue eyes light up in the darkness a few yards ahead, and bright white teeth reflect the light of the waxing moon above. ”Derek,” Stiles breathes, because those eyes are kinda unmistakable, but... ”You're a _full wolf_.”

 

”A little more so than we'd like,” Parrish says in a low voice. ”He doesn't seem to recognize us.”

 

”Have you tried the whole alpha thing to snap him out of it?” Stiles asks, and Scott shrugs, testing his newly healed arm.

 

”No, I was a little distracted, bro.” To his credit he doesn't wait another second before flashing his red eyes at Derek. Which does absolutely nothing. ”Huh.”

 

”Maybe the roar thing?” Stiles suggests, and Scott frowns.

  
”I dunno.”

 

”What do you mean, you don't know?” Stiles casts the massive black form a glance, and narrows his eyes. “Are you even sure it's him?”

 

“Yes. He smells right.”

 

“Then what's the problem?”

 

Scott makes a complicated face. ”The urge isn't there. Like, if Isaac is freaking out, it's like automatic to make him submit. I never seem to get that with Derek. Maybe because he was an alpha before.”

 

”Well screw that, try it anyway!” Stiles hisses, annoyed at Scott for dragging his feet, even though he's making a valid point.

 

It takes a moment, but Scott finally does shift fully, and gears up for the roaring howl. He's barely let loose, though, before it becomes abundantly clear it was a bad move. Derek growls in return, muzzle twisted in rage as he emerges from his shadowy corner between the trees. His fangs are bared, and his eyes are trained on Scott.

 

“Derek, no!” Stiles cries, just as Derek is crouching for a pounce. Like flicking a switch all growling and movement stops, and he turns his attention entirely to Stiles. “Derek? Do you, uh... recognize me?” Stiles asks, but Derek doesn't move. Just locks his eyes on Stiles, and stays immobile.

 

“Derek?” Isaac asks cautiously, and Derek's head whips to him long enough for a snarl, and then turns back to Stiles.

 

“Uhh. Okay,” Stiles says, and reaches out a careful hand.

 

Parrish raises his gun slightly, and John twitches, but Derek doesn't even react to them. He just waits a second, and then comes close enough for Stiles to touch. “Hey,” he says, touching the side of Derek's face as gently as he can. “It's okay, Derek.” He glances meaningfully at his dad and Parrish, and they finally lower their guns completely. “See? No one's gonna hurt you.”

 

Derek lets out a whoosh of a breath, followed up by a tiny whine, and his eyes close slowly as Stiles pets his massive head. “Okay. Okay, good. We're calm. Everybody's calm.”

 

Pretty soon after that, though, it becomes obvious that the calm only works with Stiles. The minute Scott or Isaac move an inch closer, Derek tenses again. Parrish seems only slightly less offensive, and John... is actually allowed within touching distance before Derek gets antsy. But only Stiles is allowed to make physical contact, so eventually they decide that Stiles gets the job of looking after Derek until they can figure out what happened to him.

 

They take him back to the loft, and he seems perfectly at ease, flopping onto his bed with a pleased huff. But even in his own space he still wont' let anyone but Stiles near, so Stiles steals Derek's laptop, and settles in for some research while Derek gets some much needed rest. John leaves after a few hours, still glancing warily at Derek. But Stiles is convinced Derek won't hurt him, the same way he's convinced that some people are just evil, and he's _always right_. So while the others go look for clues, Stiles orders pizza and kicks back on Derek's couch. He makes the delivery guy leave the pizzas outside the door just in case, but Derek seems to not even notice. At least not until there's a meat-only pizza under his nose. Then he perks right up and eats it all in no time before dropping back to sleep. He does look a little worse for wear, twigs stuck in his fur, and some splotches of what looks like dried blood here and there, so Stiles lets him rest as much as he needs, hoping he'll figure out how to change back on his own, because Stiles is at a loss.

 

It's mid-morning when Derek stirs, stretching himself luxuriously before getting up and shaking himself so hard that leaves and dirt go flying all over his bed. Stiles winces at how cranky Derek is gonna be at the state of his bed when he's himself again, but Derek doesn't seem to care currently, more busy pawing at the front door, for some reason. Not having had much sleep – or any sleep, really – the night before, it takes Stiles an embarrassingly long time to figure out that Derek's sudden urge to go outside has less to do with escape and more to do with last night's pizza.

 

He's wary of letting Derek out of his sight, but it turns out there's no need for concern. Derek does his thing somewhere nearby and then comes right back, butting his nose at Stiles' hand like a big dog, and Stiles pets him before realizing what he's doing. “Oh, hey, uh... hope this is okay,” he murmurs, and cautiously scratches behind a big, furry ear. Derek's tail actually wags, and that just weirds Stiles the hell out, so he herds Derek inside again.

 

Scott comes by around noon to deliver a big fat load of nothing in way of clues, and to try the whole alpha deal again in a more calm environment. Derek gives a total of zero fucks, as long as Scott stays at least six feet away. Any closer, and his hackles go up.

 

“I don't get it,” Scott says, throwing out his arms. “It _should_ work! Deaton didn't have any ideas either.”

 

“Of course he didn't,” Stiles huffs, and he might be imagining things, but for a second it's like Derek's tail twitches towards a wag again, snagging briefly on the bed sheets.

 

“Do you think it's an anchor thing?”

 

“Maybe, but how would he even use an anchor if he's currently thinking more about chasing squirrels than having opposable thumbs?”

 

Scott glares at Derek, as if it's somehow his fault, which Stiles thinks is actually kinda rude. There's no evidence to suggest as much, and it's been a few years since Stiles felt the need to accuse Derek of stuff just for being a shady asshole. To be honest, Stiles really likes his asshole personality these days.

 

“I don't even feel him, what the hell,” Scott mutters and despite his tiredness Stiles jerks around to stare at him.

 

“Wait... not at all?”

 

“No. It was never a lot, and only really when he was close, but. Yeah, no.”

 

“And now there's... nothing?”

 

“Nope.”

 

Stiles is definitely too tired for this, but it's the first clue to anything at all, and now he needs his own laptop, or at the very least access to his growing book collection on the supernatural. He's almost at the door, his focus completely on this thread of a clue, when he almost falls flat on his face, because of a massive wolf suddenly blocking his way. Scott makes a move to catch Stiles as he flails, but Derek whips his head around to growl at Scott until he backs off again.

 

“Okay, okay!” Scott says, and sends Stiles an anxious look. “Maybe you should stay here,” he suggests.

 

“You think? Dammit, I need my laptop, though. Or the USB drive with the bestiary on it.” Stiles makes another attempt at moving around Derek, and this time he gets to the door, but Derek is right there, literally plastered to his side. “Yeah, this isn't gonna work,” he sighs. “I can't go around town with a huge wolf glued to me.” So Stiles is housebound for the time being, but Scott at least agrees to go get his things.

 

The problem with sending Scott on errands is that certain things tend to get him distracted, and Stiles fidgets on the couch for an hour before giving in to the urge to send an annoyed text.

 

Another half hour and two more texts later Scott finally replies, only to say it's gonna be a while.

 

“Ugh,” Stiles groans, and flops back onto the couch. “Could he maybe wait to suck face with Isaac until after he's brought me my stuff?” Stiles grumbles to himself, and as if summoned by his voice, Derek is suddenly there next to the couch.

 

“You need to go out?” Stiles asks, but the only answer he gets is the shock of suddenly having a two hundred pound wolf pretty much in his lap, as Derek hops onto the couch and goes about making himself comfortable. It's a wide couch, so there's room for both of them, but it's still a weird and slightly scary experience to suddenly be smooshed into the couch by a huge predator, no matter how much Stiles knows it's Derek in there somewhere. “Ooookaaaay,” Stiles says, and spends a minute pondering how to get out before rethinking the matter. It's not like he has anywhere else to be while he's waiting for Scott to get his butt in gear, and it's a comfy couch. Derek is warm and Stiles is only wearing t-shirt and khakis, and he didn't get any sleep last night so... he figures why the hell not, and lets himself settle down for a little nap, curled up against the convenient wolf space heater.

 

He wakes up at dusk with his arm around Derek, face buried in a mountain of fur, _jeez_ , Derek is actually a lot fluffier than he looks. Also very awake, and calmly staring at Stiles.

 

“Uh, hey,” Stiles rasps, trying not to be too obvious as he spits out a few wolf hairs. “Are you, uh... in there?” He feels it's best to check, since he pretty much just snuggled Derek while he couldn't completely consent to it. At least if Derek's human side is still more or less locked away they can always excuse any voluntary snuggling as animal instinct, and give Derek a nice, clean out if the idea of napping with Stiles makes him flip his lid. Stiles dares to hope he won't, but you never know. It's not like Derek is the most communicative person on the planet.

 

There's not even a hint of human response, and Stiles lets his head drop back down with a sigh. He can't decide if he's relieved or disappointed. Derek makes a small huffing sound, and Stiles cranes up again to meet his blue gaze. Which hasn't faded even for a moment all the time he's been a wolf.

 

“What?” he asks, and Derek blinks slowly at him, serene in a way he never is as a human.

 

And just like that, Stiles realizes two things. One, now that's well rested his brain easily serves up a decent theory as to why Scott's alphahood isn't working, and second...

 

“Dude... I think I kinda feel you,” he whispers, giving the strange calm tickling the back of his mind a tiny mental prod. Derek wags his tail, and darts his tongue out to lick the nearest part of Stiles, which is his bare elbow, and Stiles can actually feel it in his head; Derek is _happy_.

 

“Jesus.”

 

Derek whimpers a little bit, probably responding to the spike of anxiety in Stiles' scent, because _what the hell_.

 

“Hey, no worries, it's cool. I'm just not used to having visitors in my head, you know?” Stiles says, reaching out to pet Derek's ears before he has a chance to think too hard about it. It calms Derek right down, though, so he keeps doing it while he ponders what this might mean.

 

After a while he realizes his phone is blinking on the coffee table, and reaches across Derek's massive body to get it. There are four messages from Scott, one more incoherent than the next, but they're all variations on a theme of getting side-tracked. Stiles is willing to bet his goddamn Jeep that the vague emergencies that _came up_ are all poorly executed euphemisms for Isaac's dick.

 

“Goddammit, Scott,” he grumbles, and sends off a message of about ten angry emojis before tossing his phone back on the table. “Well. Guess it's just you and me,” he murmurs, and he actually gets a little swoop of delight in the back of his mind. “That is so weird,” he breathes, and watches Derek wag his tail slowly.

 

It occurs to him then that maybe it goes both ways.

 

“ _Yo, Derek_ ,” he calls in his head, but that doesn't seem to do anything. He can still feel a tendril of contentment hovering somewhere, and he tries visualizing it, wanting to follow it to its origin. But it's like water between his fingers, and he gets frustrated enough that Derek starts whimpering again.

 

“Okay, okay,” Stiles says, petting him again and reconsidering. “Okay, what if...” He props himself up on his elbow, and locks eyes with Derek. At first he just looks into the blue shine, trying to figure out if something is supposed to happen on its own, but then he decides he might as well try and push for something. He's not the most focused guy in the world, but Derek's eyes are calming, and as long as neither of them look away, Stiles can ignore the world around them a little.

 

Still, the first couple of attempts at making a connection do nothing, but he's not one to be discouraged and tries a few different things. Interestingly, the thing to get him results is imitating how he imagines _the push_ from Firestarter. He visualizes pushing his thoughts at Derek with his hands, and Derek actually flinches.

 

“Shit, sorry,” Stiles murmurs and tries again a little less violently. “ _Are you in there?_ ” he pushes, and Derek snorts. “Right, stupid question, I get it. But you understood, so...”

 

He ponders a moment what to ask, while Derek simply looks at him. “ _Are you okay?_ ”

 

There's a tickle of emotion that takes a minute to decipher. “Okay, that's... happiness? And... uh... I dunno... feeling a little lost?” he mutters to himself, because talking through things always helps him figure things out. “ _Can you change back?_ ”

 

Derek whimpers, and that's a pretty clear answer. Stiles sighs, and he's just starting to wonder if there's any point to the conversation at all if Derek can't actually change back, when he suddenly realizes that Derek's eyes aren't glowing blue anymore. He'd been too focused on communicating to notice. “Wait... is that it? Talking?” he asks out loud, but Derek just blinks serenely at him, obviously not understanding when it's delivered physically.

 

“ _Erm. Follow the sound of my voice or whatever?_ ” he pushes hesitantly, and he definitely gets the feeling that Derek is laughing at him. But that's familiar at least, and he grins to himself. “Now I _know_ you're in there.”

 

“ _Come on, Derek. Find your way out. I know you can do it._ ”

 

There's a thread of reluctance, and at takes Stiles a moment, but then he gets it.

 

“ _Look, I know it's probably nicer being a wolf. Comfortable and safe and stuff, but... I kinda need to talk to you, so if you could just... be human for a little while, I promise I'll help you get back to wolf if you want, later._ ”

 

“ _ **No.**_ ” The voice in Stiles' head doesn't even sound like Derek's. It's... a rolling, echoing thing, like boulders down a cliff-side, but it's an actual word, and Stiles feels elated at this incredible progress.

 

“ _Please, Derek? I'm not too proud to beg,_ ” Stiles pushes back, and gets pressure in return. Obviously Derek isn't warming to the idea. “ _I don't know why I'm the only one who can feel you, but... I'm glad I can_ ,” Stiles muses in his head, pushing back very gently. “ _I know you feel happy and safe right now, but... I kinda miss you._ ” It's only as he puts words to it that he realizes the truth of it. All things considered, no one deserves more than Derek to be allowed to retreat into an animal consciousness, where trauma obviously isn't the burden it is for his human mind, but wolf-Derek isn't the Derek Stiles needs.

 

Which... is also a truth he hadn't quite realized until then. He needs Derek. “ _Derek... look, I need you. Okay? I need you to come back now._ ”

 

“ _ **Don't make me. Please.**_ ”

 

“ _I'm not making you. I'm asking. And like I said, if you wanna go back later, I swear I'll help you. But right now... please come back to me._ ”

 

There's a weird hole, suddenly, where Derek's feelings were taking up space a moment ago in Stiles' mind, and he worries for a minute he made Derek retreat into himself completely. But then there's a crackle in the air, a smell of something burning, and then Derek seizes up, his whole body rippling as it changes back to human, slowly and obviously with some pain.

 

They're still pressed close on the couch, and Derek's writhing as he changes almost makes him roll to the floor, so Stiles curls an arm around him, and gets the super gross experience of actually _feeling_ Derek's body rearrange itself, skin to skin. But it's over soon enough, and Stiles is left holding a naked and gasping Derek, who shakes and twitches for a full minute before managing to open his human eyes.

 

“Hi,” Stiles sighs, relief making him a little shaky too. “Welcome back.”

 

There's a sharp rush of sadness in Stiles' mind before it shuts off again, like a door slamming, and the pieces come together in one big jumble all of a sudden. “We're bonded somehow. Aren't we?”

 

Derek nods miserably, without meeting Stiles' gaze.

 

“And you've been hiding it.”

 

Another nod.

 

Stiles doesn't really need to ask why, because it's not like Derek is lacking good reasons, and right now there are more important matters at hand.

 

“You're an omega now, right? That's why Scott can't feel you anymore.”

 

“He never... accepted me. Not fully,” Derek whispers, and Stiles loves Scott, truly, but right now he wants really badly to kick his ass. But it was probably inevitable. Scott and Derek never became brothers the way Derek had always hoped, and forming a pack on the basis of a reluctant acquaintance never seemed like a good idea.

 

“So the full wolf?”

 

Derek shrugs under Stiles' arm. “I dunno. The full moon rose, and I just... followed it.”

 

Considering the sheer amount of weird wolf shit Stiles has seen with his own two eyes in the last few years alone, he's not even that shocked that a spontaneous full wolf transformation is something that can even happen. And he's also not entirely sure it wasn't the best thing that could have happened to Derek, specifically. “Do you... wanna go back?” Stiles asks, a little subdued, because even though he knows he'll miss Derek terribly, he's also not about to break a promise.

 

It's a long suspended minute before Derek answers. “I'm... not sure. It was nice. Simple. But also... lonely.” He finally raises his eyes to meet Stiles', and they're painfully vulnerable in a way Stiles can't remember having seen before. “I was sad. Afraid. Hurt. But then, suddenly, you were there. I didn't even recognize you at first. Didn't believe my senses. I'd... imagined you a lot.”

 

Stiles' head is kinda spinning from such a profound admission, but he's also stupidly touched that his flaily ass could somehow be a comfort to Derek. “Is this related to the whole bond thing?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Are you-” he cuts himself off, because he feels super weird asking a fully grown werewolf if he might be having a crush on the wimpy human currently cuddling him. “Is it, uh... a feelings thing? Or like... instinct?”

 

Derek actually laughs, and it's startling to the point where Stiles twitches, and has to quickly tighten his arm again to avoid shoving Derek off the couch. As a consequence, Stiles is a little busy trying to respect Derek's nudity and not press them together too intimately when Derek's laughter trails off and he reaches up to gently drag his knuckles across Stiles' cheek.

 

“Only you, Stiles,” Derek says, and Stiles feels like he should be offended somehow, but he's distracted by how amazing it is to be touched like this, so tenderly, like he's cherished. “Only you would feel the need to ask if your mate is reluctantly bonded to you.”

 

“My what?” Stiles has the distinct feeling his brain just did a record-scratch kind of sudden stop.

 

“Mate,” Derek says, looking a little sheepish. “And before you ask, no, it's nothing forced. I... liked you. And I chose you. And you probably didn't even realize you accepted, which is why I shut it off. I didn't want you to have to deal with it until I could explain, and let you make an informed decision.”

 

“Wait, when did I accept?”

 

Derek is still stroking his cheek, and it's making Stiles' gut do somersaults. “You accepted me every time you reached out. Every time you touched me or trusted me, you accepted me a little more. I'm just sorry I was too much of a coward to talk to you before it got this far.”

 

“Well,” Stiles says, voice scratchy. “I hear admitting you have a problem is the first step to a cure.”

 

“I heard that too.”

 

Stiles takes a moment to think things through, and he should probably be more focused on the whole magical wolf transformation or whatever. But he's nineteen and he's never been kissed and there's a beautiful man in his arms, touching him like he's precious, a man Stiles admires and likes to a point where he's wondered himself a few times if there isn't something between them.

 

So what comes out is: “So what you're saying is that you've got a crush on me.”

 

Derek rolls his eyes, and it's blissfully familiar. “Kinda more than that, but. Yeah, sure.”

 

“Typical,” Stiles says, as butterflies are going wild in his stomach. “You couldn't ask me out like a normal person, nooo, you just kinda accidentally make us mates and take a romp in the woods for a few weeks.”

 

“I never claimed to be normal.”

 

“Good call. Wouldn't want you to make a liar of yourself,” Stiles says, and then loses his breath when Derek moves in ever so slowly for a tiny kiss, that nevertheless leaves Stiles shaking. “Okay, wow,” he breathes, and Derek grins.

 

“Is this okay?”

 

“Yeah. Yeah, it's... good. Are _you_ okay?”

 

It's a big question, Stiles is well aware. And from the complicated face Derek's makes, he's obviously feeling the magnitude of it as well. “Better,” is what he says, and Stiles figures he can't really hope for more than that. “I might stick around for a while. As a human, I mean.”

 

“I get it,” Stiles says, smile widening on his face, because Derek is staying for _him_. “I'm glad.”

 

And just like that the metaphorical door opens, and Stiles gets that trickle again. Derek's isn't happy like he was as a wolf, but... there's affection there. And _hope_.

 

Stiles can work with hope.

 

End.

 


End file.
